


an unretractable vulnerability

by qrovers



Category: Mythic Quest: Raven's Banquet (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, but still very danarachel, dana-centric, gamer gfs, i rlly shouldn't be writing i am SICK lmao, not even that romantic just vibes dude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:34:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28110231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qrovers/pseuds/qrovers
Summary: Rachel is a caregiver, Dana realizes.(Set in S01E09: Blood Ocean)
Relationships: Dana/Rachel (Mythic Quest: Raven's Banquet)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	an unretractable vulnerability

**Author's Note:**

> this is basically if blood ocean was set in more than one day bc dana got fired then rehired on like the same day lol

Rachel is a caregiver, Dana realizes. She has a certain kindness that always seems to overflow to her touches, her words and her actions. She's naturally gifted in it, sensitivity and tender kindness etched into her veins, sewn into her bones. It feels like her words are scripted, not in a way that feels insincere, because that's the last word Dana would describe her, but in a way that seems thoughtfully curated, like she always knows exactly what to say to lift the mood. 

She told her this once, on a tired night and a lack of filter. Dana said, "You have a way with words, you know."

And Rachel grinned and blushed just a little. "I just say what I'm thinking."

And Dana believes her. 

Right now, they're sitting in front of a zombie game in an arcade booth, just like a few weeks ago. The only difference is that Dana had a job then.

She was fired in the strangest way, but she doesn't really want to think about it. Mythic Quest isn't the only job out there, she didn't have to feel that bad about it. 

She had texted Rachel if she wanted to hang out and, in true Rachel fashion, she showed up quickly enough that Dana had to ask her if she sprinted. She said she didn't, she was never a good liar. 

It was a nice sense of normalcy, an artificial recreation of the best 6 months of Dana's gaming career. Her and Rachel, in front of a video game. Her and Rachel, sitting next to each other, playing it, having fun.

Her and Rachel. 

Best 6 months. 

Dana's grip on the play gun gets a little tighter without her realizing. She's focusing too much on the zombies she has to kill, wasting bullets just because. She likes playing games, she thinks, it's probably the thing that brought her the most comfort. It gives her an irreplaceable feeling, electric fingertips and achingly excited heartbeats. It felt like a dream when she got the job in MQ, a chance to do what she loved and  _ get paid for it.  _ And then she actually got promoted and—

She blinks. Her eyes feel sore, like there's a hot fire boiling at the back of it, needles prickling at her nerves. She lets go of the fake gun and presses the heels of her hands on her eyes until the darkness starts getting stars. Maybe she’ll get a fever. That's an excuse she can use to stay in bed all day. 

"Dana?" Rachel notices immediately, because she's Rachel, and of course she does. She tries to touch Dana's arm but, maybe out of stubbornness, Dana shakes her head and pulls her hands off her eyes.

"I'm fine." She says. "I think my eyes are just getting sore from looking at a screen too much."

When she looks at Rachel, there's an unnameable pit in her stomach. It's like she had a secret and she just accidentally blurted it out loud, an unretractable vulnerability she kept so hidden she didn't even realize she had it. Rachel's face seems softened with worry and Dana knows that no matter what excuse she pulls out, she won't believe her. 

As she stares, Rachel puts a hand on Dana's face, wiping her cheek with her thumb. "You're crying."

"I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?"

"I don't know." And Dana gently puts Rachel's hand down on her lap. She puts her head back on the chair, her breath hitching. She puts an arm over her eyes, because she doesn't really know what to do. She doesn't cry very often anyway.

Rachel's already getting a tissue from her bag. Caretaker. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Let me think of the words first."

There's a giggle she wishes she saw. Then, "Okay."

And they wait in this not-so-silent silence. There are children screaming outside their little booth. The zombies on the screen gave long since eaten them, a  _ Continue? _ question flashing on the screen. But, for some reason, Dana doesn't feel that overwhelmed. She doesn't like the noise, but her mind's focusing more on the fact that neither she nor Rachel have let go of each other's hands yet.

"MQ was a fun job." Dana starts. "And, I know there will be other jobs that I'll enjoy, and that this isn't the only job for me and whatever but, I think I'm gonna miss it."

There's a pause before she realizes she's finished. That's not the only emotions she has, it's the only ones she can get herself to articulate. 

If she were to say all her thoughts, she’d say  _ I’m in love with the thought of being seen  _ and  _ There was a door in my chest that opened up when I realized I found what I was looking for  _ and  _ I’m in my mid-20s and I think I’m feeling these things too early, but I’m still  _ feeling _ them. _

Rachel squeezes her hand, like she heard it without it being said. If Dana could speak, she'd tell her that it's enough. But Rachel is an overachiever. 

"It's okay to be sad, you know." She says and it's so simple. It's so simple and trivial and it's just five words but the tears Dana thought she cut off started pouring like a poorly built ceiling with chipping paint. 

Rachel tenses at the sight. "Sorry, I didn't mean—"

"No," Dana cuts her off. There's a sob that breaks free from behind her throat, a not-so soft cry of acceptance of what she’s feeling. It feels terrible, she feels that loss and the pain of it all, but it's better than pushing down until it's gone too far and she forgets why she loved MQ in the first place. 

Her voice is softer when she speaks, a bit more vulnerable. There's this new layer she's stripped off, like opening the door of a one-sided mirror. "That was perfect. Thank you."

And they stay there for a while, even if they didn't have to. They just did because they can. And because that's enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on twitter @COOKLECASH


End file.
